
PS 1 

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Frost Fire 


ARTHUR CREW INMAN 




Class P S> *2>5(7 
Book_J\j 8 4 FT . 

fojyriglitN 0 \ 3 & 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. \ 


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FROST FIRE 



c<t 


Copyright, 1926 

By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 

(Incorporated) 





Printed in the United States of America 


THE MURRAY PRINTING COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 

THE BOSTON BOOKBINDING COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 



/ u* yf 


TO EVELYN 














CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Frost Fire.1 

Over the Hills.3 

Ho for the Road.4 

Song of Autumn.5 

Song of the Northwest Wind.6 

After Gazing at a Distant Mountain Peak . . 8 

To Swim.9 

Canoe Song.10 

The River.12 

At the Dying of Autumn.13 

Snowflakes.14 

From a Valley Window.IS 

Blue Shadows.16 

To Skate.17 

Night.18 

Eyes in the Dark.19 

Fearful I Wait.20 

Wolves.22 

Tundra Song.23 

Alone on the Moor.24 

Dawn.25 

Down a Valley River.26 

Green Flame.28 

A Ledge. 29 

The Wind is West.30 

Paths across the Sea.31 

From a Coral Island.32 








CONTENTS— Continued, 


PACE 

In the Crow’s Nest.35 

The Coral Diver.36 

Lights of the Fishers by Night.37 

A Valley in Fiji.38 

Song of the South Sea God.39 

Before a Storm.40 

Clouds.41 

The Hurricane.42 

In the Fog.44 

The Derelict.45 

Solitude.46 

Shoal Light.47 

Bells.48 

In the Dawning.49 

Wild Horses.50 

The Desert Dweller.51 

Bison.52 

The Enchanted Mesa.53 

Moon of the Peach Blossom ..... 54 

As Through a Veil.55 

The Lake of the Mountain of God . . . . 56 

The Eagle.57 

The Waterfall.58 

Now Am I Returned.59 

To the Temple of the Rose of the Winds ... 60 

Moonlight and Maya Ruins.61 

Compensation.62 

Wander Song.63 

Homecoming.64 























CONTENTS —Continued 


PAGE 

I Have Found . . 65 

Ere the End.66 

A Desire.67 

A Ghost.68 

Transmutation.69 

Sun Rays.70 

Ebb Tide.71 

The Spring House.73 

When the Hay is Stacked.74 

A Stone is Dropped.75 

The Deserted Barn.76 

I Walked with Memory.77 

I Asked of the Pines.78 

Comes the Night.79 

A Picture.81 

From an Abandoned Pier.82 

Adrift and Adream.83 









FROST FIRE 


FROST FIRE 


Ft )HE leaves are caught with frost-fire ,— 
j| Crimson, vermilion, yellow, red. 

The lavish color-wealth of the year's full-tide 
Emblazons everywhere the earth with treasure 
unbelievable, 

Causing the heart to leap in sheer delight. 

So,—I shall let the mind forget awhile 
That all this tinted conflagration is but a wondrous pyre, 
Lighting the mystic beacon of autumn's death. 


And, too, I shall overlook the conscious surety 
That all this vibrant life of mine 
Exists but as a fleeting golden dream; 

A transitory illusion, beautiful and evanescent; 
A wondrous shadow that is come and gone ,— 
Into the limbo of death's infinity. 


1 













OVER THE HILLS 


L ET us not delay! 

Over the hills at dawn of day 
Let us wander away! 

Over the hills the great world calls! 

Over the hills a dream enthralls! 

River, and mountain, and sea, 

Allure the zestful heart of me 

To follow the road of my fancy 

Out of the valley and over the hills 

Where the space of the earth is a thing that thrills! 

Sunlight, and moonlight, and glimmering star, 

Unfettered distances stretching afar, 

River, and mountain, and sea, 

Call,—call to the zestful heart of me! 

Let us not delay! 

Over the hills at dawn of day 
Let us wander away! 

Over the hills the great world calls! 

Over the hills a dream enthralls! 

Come, comrade in my delight, 

Let us leave behind the night 

And follow the road of our fancy 

Out of the valley and over the hills 

Where the space of the earth is a thing that thrills! 

Come, comrade, let us not delay! 

Let us wander, wander away,— 

Over the hills at dawn of day! 


3 


HO FOR THE ROAD 


H O, for the road once more! 

Ho, for the winged dawn! 

Ho, for the lark’s clear flight, 
Caroling the day reborn! 

Ho, for the road once more! 

Ho, for the drifted skies! 

Ho, for the distant hills, 

Purple where sunset dies! 

Ho, for the road once more! 

Ho, for the ways that call! 

Up! Let us be wandering,— 

Blown like the leaves of fall! 


4 


SONG OF AUTUMN 


A zure sky 

Flying high 
Over land and sea,— 
Joy is heaping, 

Heart is leaping, 

Autumn calls to me! 


Wave-washed strand, 

Green upland, 

Lake and winding stream,— 
Clouds are swaying, 

Winds are straying, 

World’s a thrilling dream! 

Gulls a-drift 
In blue-flung rift 
Soar above the sea,— 

Earth’s enduring, 

Space is luring, 

Autumn calls to me! 


SONG OF THE NORTHWEST WIND 


H EY! for the wind, 

The northwest wind, 
Singing and swinging, 
Over the hill tops, 

Over the tree tops, 

Down to the heart of me; 
Urging, 

Surging, 

Gay with the autumn, 

Mad with the autumn! 

Hey! for the wind, 

The northwest wind, 
Crystalline, 

Pristine, 

Azure and golden, 

Winging, 

Swinging, 

Over the hill tops, 

Over the tree tops, 

Down to the heart of me,— 
Becoming a part of me! 

Hey! for its calling, 

Ever enthralling, 

Urging, 

Surging! 

I must be heeding, 


6 


SONG OF THE NORTHWEST WIND —Continued 


Distances speeding,— 

Oh, it is calling, 

Ever enthralling! 

Hey! for the wind, 

The northwest wind, 
Winging, 

Swinging, 

Over the hill tops, 

Over the tree tops, 

Down to the heart of me,— 
Becoming a part of me! 


7 


AFTER GAZING AT A DISTANT 
MOUNTAIN PEAK 


E NOUGH of dreams! Too long, like one 
Enthralled of action contemplated, 

I have delayed! Enough of dreams! 

I must depart! The joy of life 
Is lilting, lilting in my heart, 

And I would hasten like the wind 
Upon my gladsome way! Still far 
Ahead up-looms my distant goal, 

Purple against the mid-day sky! 

On! On! I cannot walk! My feet, 
Volitioned by ecstatic speed, 

Must leap from granite ledge to ledge, 

So that in rampant flight, as fleet 
As mountain sheep along the edge 
Of cliff and scarp, I yet may still 
The urgent beating of my heart, 

That surges to the pulsing thrill 
Of far desire! Enough of dreams! 

I would hasten, hasten like the wind 
Upon my way! I must depart! 


8 


TO SWIM 


T HE northwest wind swings ’twixt the hills, 
Swings ’twixt the hills and down the lake 
Till a thousand white-capped waves arise 
To follow in its joyous wake! 

And I, with garments cast aside, 

Stand naked to the sun’s caress, 

God-like in my body’s freedom, 

Glorying in the youth that I possess! 

Poised a moment, then I spring 
With one long, clean, clear-cut dive 
Into the blue tumult of the lake, 

The lake whose waters seem alive! 

Invigorating its touch, and cool, 

And its leaping waves are a taunt to me 
To challenge my strength to the strength of them, 
Challenge, sure in my mastery! 

So hand over hand with head held low 
I battle the might of the northwest wind: 

And, hey, what a gladsome strife is mine! 

And, hey, what a conquest I shall find! 

Crest and trough, crest and trough, 

The zestful sting of the swift-whipped spray: 

And when was there ever an ecstasy 
That made the heart to be so gay! 


CANOE SONG 


C ANOE, 

Canoe of my making, 

Slim as your mother, the birch-tree, 
Fair as a maiden of moonlight, 

Light as a thistle-seed drifting, 

Come, autumn is passing, 

Leaves are down-floating, 

Grey is the landscape, 

Far, far in the greyer sky, 

The wedge of the geese cleaves to southward! 

Canoe, 

Canoe of my making, 

Let us linger no longer! 

Let us fare southward, as they, 

Southward where sunshine awaits us! 

Canoe, 

Canoe of my making, 

Through river, and lake, and river again, 

By forest, and meadow, and intervale, 

Let us journey incredibly! 

Southward, 

Where the wedge of the geese, 

Like an arrow-head pointing, 

Directs to the land of eternal spring,— 
Come, let us up and away! 


10 


CANOE SONG —Continued 


Blue skies, green plains, golden sunshine, 
Quicken the hand of me, 

Guiding your paddle, 

Bending your paddle, 

Hastening, 

Hastening southward! 

Canoe, 

Canoe of my making. 

Through river, and lake, and river again, 
By forest, and meadow, and intervale, 
Let us journey incredibly, 

J ourney,—southward! 


11 


THE RIVER 


T HE leaves are shrivelled russet; 

The grasses are withered and brown: 
But the river, lying so very blue 
Beneath the sun and sky, 

Seems as a bit of autumn’s wealth, 

That winter, returning, has overlooked. 


12 


AT THE DYING OF AUTUMN 


T HE autumn moon is ringed.tonight, 
And mist is floating white: 

A lone bat flits like a restless shade, 
Haunted and afraid. 

I wearily watch the ringed moon 
And think how soon—how soon— 

The winter’s woven wings unfurled 
Will whiten all the world. 


SNOWFLAKES 


I NTO thecineritious emptiness of dawn, 

Snowflakes, white and noiseless, descend. 

Down many lanes of moveless cold 
They flutter, in immaterial hosts, earthward, 

Cloaking the vision with vague intangibility, 

And encurtaining, in a moment, a world of soundlessness 
complete. 


14 


FROM A VALLEY WINDOW 


I 

I N the autumn days that are past, 

Often have I stood, just here, 

And followed, stroke on clear-cut stroke, 

The outline of those white-crowned heights 
Which towered so boldly against the cloudless blue. 

II 

Now, upward gazing into the storm, 

I seek with abstract purposelessness 

To edge invisible mountain against invisible sky. 

Vain seeking, do I find, is mine. 

With tantalizing filminess of form 

The swirling snow drops shutters of obscurity 

Across my straining vision, 

Until at last, perforce, I lower my weary eyes 
That they may rest once more upon reality. 


IS 


BLUE SHADOWS 


W ITH the falling of the night 

The heavy storm-clouds drift asunder, 
Disclosing a sky of depthless clarity. 
Serene, above a world of virgin snow, 

The full moon swings its luminous orb, 

Till every silver-festooned tree 
Leans shadows of electric blue 
Across a blanched wilderness. 


TO SKATE 


T O skate, alone with night, 

Down wilderness ways; 

To seek, with senses all a-tense, 
Into an unlimned soundlessness; 

To pass a forest garbed in white, 
Imponderable and unreal 
Beneath a million ghostly stars; 

To energize, with sure design, 

The guiding of a latent power; 

To breathe, with sudden ecstasy, 

The great elation of the winter night; 

To speed, unchecked, recognizing yourself 
A kindred of the esoteric swift,— 

Ah, that is to live indeed! 


17 


NIGHT 


N IGHT, dark-footed with the stain of ages, 
Speeds across the skies. 

Bright, her ever-changing silver eye 
Leads her as she flies. 


18 


EYES IN THE DARK 


A N undefined whisper, 

Caught in the web of the mind: 
A vague, insensate warning, 
Living and throbbing,—yet blind. 

A silent, unknown watcher, 

That stills the soul with fright: 

Grim, through the blackness peering,— 
Eyes, in the dark of the night. 


FEARFUL I WAIT 


T HE poignant thrill 

Of the pregnant still 
On the crown of the ancient world 
Sends challenge of doom 
From the empty gloom 
Where the weird black rocks are hurled. 

The wet wind dies 

And ghost flames rise 

From the heart of the phantom fire; 

And the pale blue light 
Through the sullen night 
Is wan as a funeral pyre. 

The red stars shake 
In the gleaming wake 
Of the leaping spirit-lights; 

But the earth is hung 

By blackness wrung 

From the soul of a thousand nights. 

I lie alone 

By a meteor stone 

In the warmth of the fitful blaze, 

And gaze away 

Where the doom lights play 

In a gorgeous glittering maze. 


20 


FEARFUL I WAIT —Continued 

Amid barren vault 

Where the living halt 

And the void of death is hurled, 

Fearful I wait 

For the unknown fate 

That broods o’er a spellbound world. 


WOLVES 


T HE wolf-pack comes running, ferociously bold, 
Urged ever forward by inexorable cold; 

And gaunt are their bodies, and red gleam their 
eyes, 

In which the death-hunger of famine stark lies. 

Swifter and swifter their shadows speed on, 

Straight in the heart of the tremulous morn; 

And close, close on their heels with weird-uttered cries 
The wild wind of famine vindictively flies. 


22 


TUNDRA SONG 


A -00—a-oo—a-oo: 

The wind is cold tonight; 

The white stars dance and sway; 
The throbbing north lights play,— 

Oh it is cold tonight! 

A-oo—a-oo—a-oo! 

A-oo—a-oo—a-oo: 

The wind moans drear tonight; 
Ghost-like, the pale moon dies; 

Afar, a lone wolf cries,— 

Oh it is death tonight! 

A-oo—a-oo—a-oo! 


ALONE ON THE MOOR 


D ARK lowers the impenetrable night 
Above the abyss world; 

A long wind sweeps across the empty moor: 
And far, very far below the cliff, 

The moaning waves are hurled. 

Soft ghost hands finger at my bolted door. 

My candle flames and flickers low 

As formless shadows pass 

And go to beckon through the window pane 

To shades that ride the dismal night: 

These softly thrum the glass,— 

Or is it but the beating of the rain? 

Ghost faces seem to peer at me 
From out the changing gloom. 

Do they not mock in me the welling fear 
That triumphs o’er my reasoning sense 
And hints of phantom doom? 

’Tis weird—alone on the moor,—and eldritch drear! 


24 


DAWN 


T HE knife-edged air of the mountain height 
Cut deep the sky of the winter morn: 
And day, marvellous mystery 
Of fair, aerial light, was born. 


25 


DOWN A VALLEY RIVER 


I 


D OWN a valley river, 

Between two low, smooth lines of hills. 
All morning we have floated, 

Floated idly, 

Floated towards the sea. 


Winter, 

Almost ere departing, 

Has unlocked a magic current, 
A charmed current, 

A river towards the sea. 


Snow within each landward hollow; 
Green ice along each reedy margin: 
But in the air, 

The enchanted air,— 

Spring. 


II 

Down a valley river, 

Between two low, smooth lines of hills, 
All morning we have floated, 

Floated idly, 

Floated towards the sea. 


Ill 

Now morning has turned into noon; 
A meadow lark arising 


26 


DOWN A VALLEY RIVER —Contimed 


Sings joy of the earth reborn; 

And up against the cloudless sky 
A plowman halts his trudging horses, 
And cupping hands to mouth, 
Halloos to us a joyous greeting, 

A merry greeting, 

A greeting echo-lost. 


IV 

Down a valley river, 

Between two low, smooth lines of hills, 
All morning we have floated, 

Floated idly, 

Floated towards the sea. 


GREEN FLAME 


O VER marshland, meadow, and intervale, 
The sudden swift green flame of spring 
Transforms a waste of lifeless brown 
Into a paradise of vernal ensorcellment. 


28 


A LEDGE 


A LEDGE on the mountainside; 

Granite, warm in the noon-day sun; 

The moist smell of evaporating dampness; 
Gray lichens and blue hairbells; 

A single misshapen pine, 

Framing between its twisted branches 
A sapphire space of unsailed sea; 

And over all the calm-enchanted world, 

The immaterial roofing of ethereal sky. 


29 


THE WIND IS WEST 


T HE wind is west— 

Is west— 

White cloud-stairs climb the sky. 
The tide is full— 

Is full— 

The hour to part is nigh. 

The wind is west— 

Is west— 

White top-sails catch the day. 

We must depart— 

Depart— 

Over the world,—away! 


30 


PATHS ACROSS THE SEA 


O N the silver crest of the ocean’s breast 
With the winds of rare delight 
My ship and I like sea wraiths fly 
To the surge of a tropic night. 

On the silver crest of the lustered west 
Like the dance of a far-flung tune 
We cleave a way of star-flung spray 
On our path to the fairy moon. 


31 


FROM A CORAL ISLAND 


I 

Noon 


T HE southern sea! 

Out there, it curls and flings 
Upon the reef. It sings 
A slumber song 
As endless long 
As all eternity. 


II 

Afternoon 

The wondrous sea! 

Out there, the waves wall green 
Against the sky, careen 
With muffled roar, 

Then gaily soar 
In drifts of dazzling white 
Across the blue to me. 

Ah, what delight 

To lie out-stretched upon the sand 
Of this far, lonely land, 

And watch—all day— 

The magic play 

Of wave, and drift, and light! 


32 


FROM A CORAL ISLAND —Continued 


III 

Sunset 


The opal sea! 

Out there, the sunset dreams 
So silently, it seems 
A flood of molten gold 
Has rolled, with loveliness untold, 
From out the mystic west. 

IV 

Dark 


The hidden sea! 

Out there, all life is still, 

All save the ceaseless thrill 
Of ghostly waves a-spill 
With phosphor fires. 

I pause amid the flowered scent 
Of night, and all desires 
Are lost to me. 

I am content, 

And cosmic-free, 

With naught save night, and stars, and sea! 


FROM A CORAL ISLAND —Continued 


V 

Moonlight 


The mystic sea! 

Out there, the moon rides high 
And dims the abyss sky 
To deeper black. 

Its silent, silver gleam 
Goes dancing all in glee, 

From wave to wave. It takes 
Its fleeting rout across the sea 
And shakes 
A way of dream. 

VI 

White Dawn 

The phantom sea! 

Out there, it curls and flings 
Upon the reef. It sings 
A slumber song 
As endless long 
As all eternity. 


34 


IN THE CROW’S NEST 


U P here, I am alone 

And fellow to the sky: 
Deep-cushioned in the arms 
Of air I seem to lie. 

I rock, caressed by wind 
And sun. Dull measured time 
Is fled, and in its place, 

The ocean’s ceaseless rhyme. 

I am alone, alone, 

A-tune with golden day: 

And as I dream my dreams, 

The world recedes away. 

The unknown firmament 
Looks down with azure eyes: 

I feel creation pulse, 

And—for a space—am wise. 


THE CORAL DIVER 


IENSE-POISED a moment, then she cleaves 
The breast of the blue lagoon. 

Bubbles of silver her body weaves 
That burst in the heat of noon. 

Her amber form through the blueness speeds 
Down to the cool green deep, 

Down where the coils of swaying weeds 
Fling in a glowing sweep. 

Down and down, to the coral bed— 

Purple, and richest rose, 

Lilac, and gold, and shimmering red, 

The gorgeous color flows. 


II 

Up and up, till the mirror breaks, 

And ripples slip to the sea. 

Then soft her exultant laughter wakes 
The calm of the tropic lea. 


36 


LIGHTS OF THE FISHERS BY NIGHT 


T HE steel-blue misty sea 
Is all a-light 

With leaping crimson fires 
That stab the night 
Like comets of unrest: 

Their mirrored tails 
Are twisted by the tide 
To golden flails. 

The half-seen shapes of sails 
And swaying spars 
Rise ghost-like from the swirl 
Of moving stars: 

And ever the spectral maze 
Of changing light 
Goes weaving silently 
Across the night. 


37 


A VALLEY IN FIJI 


A VALLEY in Fiji; 

A radiant moon, high over the hills; 
A village, lonely and asleep; 

And I, a dweller in fairyland, 

Watching the moonlight play an elfin dance 
Among the quaintly pointed roofs. 

A valley in Fiji; 

And silence and peace; 

And over the hills beyond the moon, 

The world that I have left behind. 


38 


SONG OF THE SOUTH SEA GOD 


C ARVEN of stone am I, 

A god that will never die! 
I hear the cyclone cry 
Through swaying artu trees! 

I see the scented breeze 
Bring blossoms to my knees! 

I feel the cloak of night, 
Trimmed with gems of white, 
Settle o’er my might! 

I catch the golden gleam 
That comes in quivering stream 
As dawn awakes from dream! 

Ages pass me by 

With endless humming cry, 

And still the breakers sigh 
Their ancient rhythmic song. 

As though time struck a gong 
In measured strokes, and long! 

Many suns have gilded me, 
Gazing o’er the sea 
In my lonely majesty! 

Carven of stone am I, 

A god that will never die. 

Till the final dooming cry 
Echoes wild o’er the lea, 

And the screaming seagulls flee 
From the rushing, sinking, sea! 


BEFORE A STORM 


I WALKED one day at eventide 
Along a curve of barren beach. 

Down mile on misty mile the waves 
Rushed rank by rank against the land. 

An army mad in pale plumes clad 
They charged; they fell: and the sigh of them 
Drew empty echoes from a world 
Of loneliness indescribable. 


40 


CLOUDS 


D ARK lowering clouds 

Like mourners’ shrouds 
Hang black o’er an empty shore. 
The lightnings flash, 

The thunders crash, 

And madly the breakers roar. 

The moon, dull red, 

From its inky bed 
Leers forth its eye of hate. 

Across its face 

The storm clouds race 

Let loose through tempest’s gate. 

They toss and turn, 

Embrace and spurn, 

Inchoate, monstrous things: 

For the great god, storm, 

Invisible form, 

His army to battle flings. 


THE HURRICANE 


A HOLLOW still, tense-drawn, 
As though the universe 
Had ceased its age-old pulse. 
Across the ocean swirls 
A bleary, shifting smudge, 

A blotch like the blood that flecks 
The lips of dying men. 

The foliated palms 
Hang motionless, with fronds 
Dark-struck against thick drifts 
Of sickly yellow haze. 

Within the small lagoon 
A ship drops tattered sails, 

As noiselessly as ship 
Upon a picture screen. 

Beneath their palm-thatched huts 
The natives squat, moveless 
As casts of molded bronze. 

Beyond the furthest reach 
The opaque mists grow black, 

A funnel, heaven-high, 

Which moves inscrutably 
Into the face of us. 

A lone dog howls and howls. 

A boy stirs restlessly. 

Great drops of warmish rain 
Thud down upon the sand. 

Away across the sea 


42 


THE HURRICANE —Continued 


A line of water walls 
And charges like a horde 
Of warriors, whitely-plumed. 
The wind begins to moan 
And whine. The cocoa palms 
Bend like great tautened bows. 
The spell of silence breaks. 

The women shriek and shriek. 

A wild cacophony 

Of noise and storm sweeps down. 

Confusion reigns supreme; 

And louder, shriller, screams 
The blast. The sea uprears 
And lunges up the beach, 

Its broken waves outstretched 
Like tentacles of doom. 

The hurricane is here. 


43 


IN THE FOG 


A RIFT in the fog; 

A ghostly ship that passes and is gone from me: 
Then empty space 

Once more, and only the restless heave of the wraith-like 
sea. 

An ache in the heart; 

A vague desire to know who passed, and whence, and 
where: 

Then from afar 

The moan of a fog-horn rolls in waves of lone despair. 

An answering horn,— 

Or is it but an echo from the fog’s dim core? 

Then muffled crash; 

And stifled, smothered cries. Now all is still once more. 


44 


THE DERELICT 


N Oland; 

No gleaming sail 

Peaked white against a cloudless sky; 
No funnel of spreading smoke 
Where plies some lonely ocean tramp; 

No titan liner 

Gay with a thousand sun-shot ports: 

Only the luminous emptiness of water and sky, 
And this abandoned hulk, 

Helmless, mastless, masterless, 

Sinking with sodden helplessness 
Into the sea’s inscrutable embrace,— 

A plaything of chance and change. 


45 


SOLITUDE 


H ERE upon the tide-encompassed outer reef 

I sit as one enthralled by nothingness complete. 
The night shuts in a hollow drum of darkness 
Wherein broods silence incomprehensible. 

Even the monstrous presence of the ocean seems with¬ 
drawn. 

Within the starless, moonless chamber of obscurity naught 
moves, 

Naught save the phosphor fire-fangs of noiseless waves 
Whose innumerable aqueous jaws mouth eerily 
The giant, bleached ribs of this forgotten wreck 
Where I, for an hour, have comprehended solitude. 


46 


SHOAL LIGHT 


SHOAL light wavered far 
Across the sea,— 

I dreamt it was a star. 


BELLS 


T HE bells ring soft and deep, 
And call and call,— 

It seems 

They summon me from sleep, 
And from the hall 

Of dreams. 


IN THE DAWNING 


I N the whiteness of the dawning, 

Ere the sun has leaped earth’s crest, 
Let us mount our eager horses, 

Let us ride upon our quest! 

In the stillness of the dawning, 

When the plain is stretched afar, 

Let us spurn the world behind us, 

Let us catch yon fleeting star! 


WILD HORSES 


A CROSS the valley’s great bowl, 

Along and along the crest of the far divide, 
Wild horses are passing, 

Continuously passing. 

Thrown boldly athwart the sun in its setting, 

Their going is outlined in blackest relief, 

Outlined in a fresco of impetuous speed. 

Like the unleashing of waters tumultuous 
The ceaseless dark flow of their passage appears. 
The monotone rumble of hoof-beats innumerable 
Resounds as the rushing of waters, 

Unfettered waters: 

And the tossing tempestuous of manes windy-blown 
Resembles a rapids by moonlight, 

Resembles arrogant spray-plumes of swiftness. 

Across the valley’s great bowl, 

Along and along the crest of the far divide, 

Wild horses are passing, 

Continuously passing. 


SO 


THE DESERT DWELLER 


1 AM oppressed by all this space, 
Where heat and silence dominate. 

I am oppressed by all this space. 

I long for the mountains’ high embrace; 
The wind-blown sea-spume in my face,— 
Some bourne for vastitude insensate. 

I am oppressed by all this space, 

Where heat and silence dominate. 


51 


BISON 


A THOUSAND fires on the prairie, 

The hunters are feasting tonight, 
For gone is the day’s mad tumult, 
And gone the blood-filled flight. 

But the bison herd will thunder 
Till the night turns into day, 

For the fear of death is in them, 

And they search for far-away. 


52 


THE ENCHANTED MESA 


N AY, I shall not endeavor its portrayal, 
For you have never, as I, seen it, 

A vision sheer against the sunset sky : 
And,—words may not describe such beauty! 


MOON OF THE PEACH BLOSSOM 


O H0PI land, how many moons 

Have passed since you and I were one? 

“I would forget, yet never may; 

And now, afar, I long for you! ” 

In Hopi land, it is the month, 

The month of love, the peach-flower-month. 

I see you there, perched mesa-high, 

A dream of white and purple blue. 

I see you there, a haunt of space, 

Of lustred moon, and wide-flung stars. 

The scent of blossoms, the magic still, 

The distances, the night, enchanted,— 

“O Hopi land, I long for you, 

Across the bar of untold miles! 

“I would forget, yet never may; 

And now, afar, I long for you!” 


54 


AS THROUGH A VEIL 


I 


W ITH the blindfold of darkness upon my vision, 
All through the long and interminable night 
I have journeyed, guideless, up a maze of 
mounting trail. 


II 

Now the weird half-light of dawn discloses, 
As through a veil of immaterial sorcery, 

The ocean I had judged forever hidden 
Behind grim battlements of enfolding hills,— 

Or is it but the foam-tips of aerial clouds? 


55 


THE LAKE OF THE MOUNTAIN OF GOD 


B LUE-GREEN, unrippled, depthless; 

Deep with the deep of unfathomed skies; 
As crystal cold as shadowed snow; 
Impassionless and virgin-pure 
As eyes into an empty mind; 

Blue-green, inscrutable, serene,— 

A fragment wrought of spaceless calm 
Forever set in titan rock, 

High up, beneath a changeless sky, 

Alone with God and destiny. 


56 


THE EAGLE 


I 


H IGHER and higher he mounts, 

Becoming at last as a black-pricked mote 
Upon the background of an incandescent sky. 


II 

Ah, to be for an instant as he, 

Lord complete of upper space! 

What, then, would my emotions be, 

Unfettered of this iron grip of gravity? 

How much would I discern of the world below me? 
How much comprehend? 


Ill 

Higher and higher he mounts, 

Becoming at last as a black-pricked mote 
Upon the background of an incandescent sky. 


57 


THE WATERFALL 


ROM mountain to plain the river leaps. 


Here upon the distant vantage where I stand, 
The sound of its falling comes as diminished thunder; 
And all its mighty-volumed downpouring 
Resembles but a fragile ribbon of iridescent green 
Gossamered about by whitest mist-clouds, 

At whose heart unfolds, from cliff to cliff, 

The multitinted wonder of a rainbow’s arch. 


58 


NOW AM I RETURNED 


I 


U PON a mountain which has no name, 

Night on night have I lain awake, 

Listening, while above my head the high-roofed 
pines 

Whispered subdued chordings of solitude. 


II 

Now am I returned to the plains: 

Only to find myself an alien to their one-time peace. 
For alas, I am estranged beneath such silence,— 
Silence of a million diamond-pointed stars. 


59 


TO THE TEMPLE OF THE ROSE OF THE WINDS 


T HE shadow centuries 
Are ever lingering 
Beneath your cornices. 
The shadow centuries 
Of many empiries 
About your portals cling. 

The shadow centuries 
Are ever lingering. 


60 


MOONLIGHT AND MAYA RUINS 


M OONLIGHT and Maya ruins, 
Alone in the jungle’s heart: 
Dim shades that silent come 
And silently depart: 

Faint secret cries that rise 
From out the scented night: 

Huge bats that flit and sway 
Athwart the white moon’s light: 

Weird carven gods of stone 
That loom grotesque and dim: 

Warm stars that shake and swirl 
Across the heaven’s rim: 

All,—pulsing loneliness, 

Translucent, half-guessed gloom, 

And the changeless aura of time, 

Are wrapped in shadow doom. 

What has been is linked 
For aye with what may be,— 
Moonlight and Maya ruins,— 
Perchance,—infinity. 


61 


COMPENSATION 


D EEP in the impenetrable jungle, 

Where stifled dusk and silence 
Oppress a region of unpeopled gloom, 
I have searched unceasingly for an ancient ruin 
Builded by a forgotten race,— 

Searched in vain. 

So, weary from an unavailing quest, 

I have retraced my arduous way, 

Emerging at eventide 

Upon this little palm-fringed cove. 

Here, the quiet water reflects in duplicate 
The matchless crimson of the sunset sky: 

And on the golden sand 
The convoluted fountain shells 
Catch, with tones unbelievable, 

The very essence of the afterglow. 

And, ah, what matters it 
If I have failed, this day, 

To find the goal of all my seeking? 


62 


WANDER SONG 


1 MAY wander, wander, wander, 

Through the endless, livelong day, 
Till the azure turns to crimson 
And the sunset colors play. 

I may wander, wander, wander, 
Through the swiftly flowing years: 

I may follow fast the windings, 

And chase the wind that veers. 

I may wander, wander, wander, 

Over kingdoms of the world, 

Till old is new, and new is old, 

And the flag of time is furled. 

But someday I’ll wander homeward 
From the waste haunts of the earth, 
Where wind and sea will whisper 
By the golden-glowing hearth. 


HOMECOMING 


T HE ledge road dips into the valley; 

The giant redwoods column skyward, 
Roofing all in rich, elusive dusk; 
There is the murmur of some hidden stream; 
High up, the foliage sways a lullaby. 

My horse’s fetlocks sink to stilliness 
Within the yielding mold. 

How soon now shall I climb again 
Out upon the rolling upland, 

Where the orange poppies 

Open to the sky their jeweled chalices, 

Where the red-winged blackbirds 
Flock about the fields of greening oats, 

And where the far Pacific 

Rises into fusion with the vaulted sky? 

How soon now shall I climb again 
And find, across the hills, 

My home beneath the aged sycamores? 

How soon? 

Nay, I have forgotten. 

It has been so long 

Since in the fog of early dawn 

I rode away,— 

Into the world! 


64 


I HAVE FOUND 


I 


B EYOND mountain, river, and sea, 

I fared me forth to seek for ancient lands, 
Lands forgotten of men. 


II 

Now, an alien to success actual, 

I am returned again whence I came. 

Pity me not, I pray you, 

As one misfortuned by failure: 

For I have found of more import to me 
Than elusive shadow of storied splendor. 
I have found,—myself! 


ERE THE END 


F ROM the land beyond the west, 

I have come, at last,—home. 

For the days that yet remain to me, 
I shall walk, again, olden ways, 

Reliving olden memories, 

Recalling olden dreams. 

From the land beyond the west, 

I have come, at last,—home. 


66 


A DESIRE 


A LONG, low rain and a soft, soft wind, 
And a changing solitude; 

A silent swell on a wan, wan sea 
Where the silken quiets brood,— 

There let me float on a slow, slow tide, 

In the swing of the sea’s sad mood. 


A GHOST 


A GHOST upon the way 
The moonlight weaves. 
Where dwells old yesterday? 


68 


TRANSMUTATION 


T HE driftwood burns 

With flames of green and gold, 
Of chrysoprase and violet, 
Flawlessly and wonderfully clear; 

And perfect, 

As is the mirrored fire 
Within an heart of ice. 

It seems to me 
I have transmuted into form 
The sea’s inscrutable soul. 


69 


SUN RAYS 


C LOSE in beside the granite wharf, 

Where all the dancing harbor waves are stilled, 
The water crowds with deep green ponderousness. 
Sun rays, piercing its quiescent surface, 

Set into turmoil a myriad corruscating motes, 

And limn, like darting metal shadows, 

The passing of unnumbered fish. 


70 


EBB TIDE 


I 


T HE tide is out. 

Long banks of ooze 
Slope flatly to a sea 
That shimmers sapphire blue 
Beneath the noonday sun. 


The tide is out. 

The gleaming mud holds fast a space 
Each boat the sea has left 
Careened upon its side 
With keel out-thrust and deck aslant. 


The tide is out. 

Great flocks of busy crows 
Flap loudly down. 

Their curious, sedate steps 
Impress strange hieroglyphs 
Upon the ocean’s plastic bed, 


II 

A short time now, 

The tide will inward creep. 

It will feel its way 

With tenuous, watery hands, 

Advancing, 

Ever advancing, 

With weird deliberateness,— 
Instinct with power. 


EBB TIDE —Continued 


A short time now, 

This brown expanse will disappear; 

The crows will homeward wing; 

Each boat will slowly right itself: 

And, as the day declines across a sea 

Whose beauty is as a mirror of the sunset’s heart, 

We will wonder, will we not, 

At the mystery of the tide,— 

The tide that ebbs and flows? 


72 


THE SPRING HOUSE 


T HE locusts rasp the windless heat. 

The young bay-leaves hang limply green 
Against a sky of shimmering blue. 

Is there no cool in all the land? 

Come! Let us seek that white spring-house 
Whose peaked roof hides shadily 
Beneath the intertwining boughs 
Of three great oaks. Enter! Enter 
And find the cool you seek. See! Clear 
And cold the water bubbles up 
From golden sand. See! There is moss 
Upon the walls. Under the eaves 
A pewee, grey and elfin-eyed, 

Broods unafraid upon her nest. 

A salamander slips shyly 

Beneath a stone. A place apart 

Is here. And the heat that binds the world? 

Ah, you have forgotten that! 


73 


WHEN THE HAY IS STACKED 

N all the upland meadows 
The summer winds are stilled. 



Myriad stacks of fragrant hay 
Mound yellow against a sky 
Where swallows, sun-enchanted, 

Flit ceaselessly. 

Along the heat-white road 
Lumbers a laden cart: 

And all its going is trailed with dust, 
Rising, dazzlingly, straight into the blue. 


A STONE IS DROPPED 


1 LEAN above an ancient well, 

And, extending rigidly my arm, 

Let drop the stone my fingers clasp. 
Downward, plummet-like, it speeds. 

An instant I follow its plunge, 

Until, like a fallen star, it is seen no more. 
Forever it has passed into darkness. 

I listen, with curious intensity. 

The well is as a tube of utter soundlessness. 

At last, when patience seems outworn, 

Faint, and far, and hollowly, 

Like the alien heart-throb of some inner earth, 
Its muffled plash comes mockingly to me, 
Mockingly, 

Since I do not comprehend its sonancy. 

A stone, dropped into a well. 

A little thing, I swear, 

To make me think so solemnly 

Upon the immense mystery of that world 

Existing, all unexplored, beneath my very feet. 


THE DESERTED BARN 


B EHIND the barn, the sunlight seems 
To flood the long-forgotten field 
With golden calm. The forest curves, 
An amphitheatre of living green, 
High-galleried with spruce and pine, 

To make enclosure of the whole. 

Above the tangled grass, grown rank 
With weeds, piebald yellow and white 
With daisies, mustard, and buttercups, 

The busy insect world quickens 
The air with tiny life. Somewhere, 

Invisible, a whitethroat sings. 

And ever, against a drop of grey 
Where rises to its eaves the barn, 

A myriad swallows dart and swoop, 

Exquisite boomerangs of flight. 

Atop the roof a weather-cock 

Still stands with neck and wings upthrust 

As if about to shrill his taunt— 

Pathetic now—that once this world 
Of crumbling human enterprise 
He has surveyed so long,—was man’s. 


76 


I WALKED WITH MEMORY 


1 WALKED with memory 
Along autumn ways, 
When all the countryside 
Was meshed in golden haze. 

I walked with olden thoughts, 
Unconscious where I strayed: 
For soon that gracious dream 
Of life, I knew, must fade. 


I ASKED OF THE PINES 
ORTURED pines by the sea, 



Waving fantastic arms, 
Beckon the soul of me, 
Quick to their olden charms. 

Twisted pines on the ledge, 

Poised as if to fly, 

Hang to the granite edge 
Between the sea and sky. 

“Wasted pines by the sea, 

What is life to you? 

What is yours to see, 

Far through the deepening blue?” 

Withered pines on the cliff 
Gaze ever across the sea, 

And standing weirdly stiff, 

Reply, “Eternity!” 


78 


COMES THE NIGHT 


I 

1 SIT alone, 

Here, high on the mountainside, 
And pondering idly, 

Observe the ending of the day. 

Below and beyond the ocean spreads: 
And along every homeward-leading way 
The last, low winds of afternoon 
Float soundless white-sailed ships 
Into the waiting haven. 


II 

Sinks the sun into the sea. 

The world of commonplace 
Becomes enraptured with aerial hues. 


Ill 

Then, like the fading of some perfect dream, 
The afterglow departs. 

Twilight, transparently black and green, 
Creeps subtly into hollow and glen. 

Lonely lights in the distance gleam. 

Star on silver star winks into being. 


IV 

Purple dusk, and night. 


79 


COMES THE NIGHT —Continued 


V 

Slowly, ruddily, up from beyond, 
Out of the sea’s embrace, 

Emerges the golden autumnal moon. 


80 


A PICTURE 


L ONG surges of the somnolent sea 
Merge in the mists of beyond; 
And swaying seagulls lazily drift 
And cry to cry respond. 

Long stretches of the spray-flung coast 
Whiten the greyish sea, 

And moan to softly-tinted woods 
In solemn lethargy. 

Long spaces of the cloud-hung sky 
Float in the azure deep; 

And all the world in enchantment lies, 
Lulled to eternal sleep. 


81 


FROM AN ABANDONED PIER 


P IER’S end; 

Two grey protruding piles 
Frame in for me 
The vista of this lonely cove; 

Blue sea, blue sky, 

A curve of rocky shoreland, 

And oceanward 

One slanting snow-white sail,— 

Or is it but the winging of some passing gull? 


82 


ADRIFT AND ADREAM 

A DRIFT and a-dream 
On an endless tide 
That merges the sky 
Where the hills divide. 

The long afternoon 
With its drowsy content 
And soft half-desire 
Is almost spent. 

I wonder now, 

When death’s pale kiss 
Has touched, will the end 
Hold a peace like this? 


83 


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